


this is connor. he just killed his parents.

by didievenmakeasound



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Slow Burn, connor is unhelpful, ghost au, honestly this can be only fluff because, i guess??? how do y'all do it on here, i haven't the foggiest fckin clue where this is gonna go but honestly i just hope it all makes sense, i mean he's a fckin ghost, in which connor really does fit the demon demographic, it's a welcome to hell au but gayer and almost with a personality switch, oh yeah and also jared might be able to see ghosts if it's convenient, p.s. haven't seen the show (unfortunately) so some of these details might line up poorly idk, tw blood, tw death, tw suicide, zoe and alana are also rlly gay but it's in the bg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 22:43:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10773996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didievenmakeasound/pseuds/didievenmakeasound
Summary: connor commits a capital crime and evan suffers through therapy





	this is connor. he just killed his parents.

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of convenience, evan gets the letter back. it's important for character detail (kinda)

Dinner with the Murphy family was just too much sometimes.

 

This truth was painfully evident to Connor, as he dragged the bodies of Larry and Cynthia Murphy to the six-foot-deep holes recently dug into the local graveyard.

 

After one of a long line of obnoxious evenings, topped off by a series of inconveniences involving some pot-hating teachers and that twink Evan Hansen with his stupid fucking letter, Connor Murphy had had enough. Two bloody steak knives later, he found himself in the graveyard faced with the situation at hand. He momentarily thanked the God he didn't believe in that Zoe hadn't been home that evening, off at Alana's to work on a project or something. Frankly, her absence was one of the factors causing him to seriously consider the knife in his pocket. Suicide probably would have been inevitable. 

 

There was the depression in general, his parents' plastic attempts to "cheer him up," Zoe's ability to more or less happily move on with her life while maintaining vague annoyance and hatred towards him at all times, and a thorough lack of anyone who could be bothered to care. Simply put, the world had abandoned Connor Murphy, left behind with marijuana, somehow perpetually lowering grades, scars on his arms and death always on his mind. 

 

Connor took a deep breath, glancing towards the sky, then back down to the carving knife in his hands, which was now steadily focused on his abdomen. His hair fell in front of his face, obscuring the view of what should be a clean (kinda) suicide. Puffing a strand out of the way, he pulled the hair-tie from his wrist to deal with it and pulled down the zipper of his black hoodie. Rolling up his sleeves, he silently apologized to his sister, who might pity him at least a little. 

 

He didn't really even notice the knife moving, but its presence was blatantly obvious once the pain seared through his body, flowing out from his stomach like the blood from the wound. The world around him went white with pain as he crumpled, using what strength he had left to draw out the knife and drop it (along with the rest of his person) to the ground. It probably took less than thirty seconds for his life to depart with his blood, but to Connor it felt like a century. 

 

\---

 

The next thing he was aware of (surprisingly) was total darkness. He seemed to be lying on his back, although there was nothing remotely physical in his surroundings that would suggest this to be possible. An alarmingly dapper man suddenly manifested in front of him, extending a hand and wearing a maroon suit along with a charming grin.

 

"Welcome to hell. Would ya like a hand?"

 

Connor, more baffled than annoyed at the presence of someone else who seemed like they could easily piss him off, silently took the hand offered to him. 

 

"This is my office. Have a seat."

 

Connor seated himself, quietly eyeing the seemingly endless file cabinet behind his (supposed?) benefactor. "Do you know why you're here, Mr. Murphy?"

"Because I killed my parents? Killed myself.."

 

After suffering through the man's grievances about the difficulties of having hell renovated and a series of shitty puns about hell and Connor's nonexistent explanation for having committed murder, Connor found himself confronted with a job offer and a manila folder with the face of his.. client staring back at him. The boy looked to be about his age, wearing a dorky blue striped polo and visibly sweating as he stared at the camera with a nervous smile. After a few seconds of staring, Connor recognized him as one of the most immediate reasons he'd killed his parents only around a few hours ago, Evan Hansen. 

 

He smiled to himself, satisfied at the prospect of getting him to commit suicide.

 

\---

 

Evan sat quietly, preparing for the therapist to walk into the office while the letter shook almost imperceptibly in his hands. He ran his thumb over the slightly smudged “Dear Evan Hansen,” crinkled slightly from when the angry loner guy (what was his name? Connor, maybe?) had grabbed it from him. He shuddered, lightly rubbing the cast on his arm, which had been hurting since he used it to catch himself. He hadn’t bothered to tell anyone, though, and he probably wouldn’t be letting his mom know about being pushed. The last thing she needed right now was another stress about her son’s steadily failing social status.  _ She’s already fought so hard to keep me doing okay, I can’t weigh her down like this. I’ll just make sure I don’t move it for a while and see if it gets better because God knows I couldn’t do anything to inconvenience her I mean what if she decided to take me to the hospital and missed a big test or something but then she had to stay with me because I’m her stupid son who got himself pushed and then she fails and I’ve ruined everything like I always do and then what if she gets mad at me and doesn’t want me to be around or worse what if she pretends to be nice to me I couldn’t stand that  _

 

Evan barely noticed the warmly lit and almost off-puttingly cozy room almost darkening slightly around him, blotted out by the swarm of thoughts in his head. He stared down at the page, letters blurring slightly as his eyes threatened to tear up. All of a sudden, the doctor was standing in the doorway.

 

“Evan?”

 

He glanced up suddenly, abruptly embarrassed to have been caught almost crying with his reddening face and sweaty hands. Evan wiped his hands on his pants and shuffled slightly in his chair, catching out of the corner of his eye the concerned expression on the therapist’s face. “Is everything okay?”

 

He nodded, maybe a little too quickly.  _ Oh God she’s gonna know you were crying you stupid baby nobody takes a baby seriously you idiot why can’t you do anything right  _ “Yeah I- I’m fine.”

 

The therapist examined him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Okay. How was your day?”

“It was okay, I got some work done in- in terms of college admissions, and, um. I- I got someone to sign my cast.” He gestured towards the block letters in Sharpie on his cast, careful not to move it too much. 

“That’s good! Connor… a friend of yours?”

“An- um.. Acquaintance.” He stumbled over the word, having vaguely remembered Alana using it a couple times.

“...Okay, that’s a start. Did you write a letter for today?” The therapist eyed the crumpled piece of paper in Evan’s lap.

 

Evan froze, thinking about how he could possibly explain the crumpled letter.  _ I can’t tell her how it got crumpled up she knows I wouldn’t do something like that and I can’t show it to her I mean what’s in there did get me pushed today oh gosh I just don’t want to disappoint her because then Mom’ll be disappointed and I can’t do that to her but like I can’t show it to her maybe I can-?  _ Evan was struck with an idea. As ideas go, it wasn’t all that good, but it would do for the time being. 

“It, um. It’s homework, I was, uh- I was doing a worksheet before you came in.” He then shoved the letter harshly into the backpack near his feet, cringing as the paper crumpled further. 

“So.. no letter then?”

_ Shit.  _ “Um.. I’mreallysorryIdidn’twritealettertodaysonoIdon’thavealetterI’msorry”

The therapist sighed (again, much to Evan’s dismay). “Okay. It sounds like you had a pretty busy day, so I’m gonna let you off the hook for now, but I really need you to have one next week.”

“Yes I can do that I’m really sorry about today I’ll definitely have one next week.” Evan cursed himself and his run-on sentences internally. 

“All right. Well in that case, I think we can stop early for today. Have a good one, Evan.” The therapist rose to shake his hand, which hopefully wasn’t nearly as sweaty as it felt, and nodded to him as she strolled out the door, leaving behind a teenager unmistakably no better off than he had been before the appointment. 

 

Evan looked down at his bag, remembering the “homework” which lay crumpled at the top. He smoothed it out gently, although he wasn’t sure why, then carefully put it into one of the folders in the bag. So as to at least be able to do something worthwhile for his mother, he pulled on the jacket hung over the back of his chair to defend from what Mom had cheerfully called a “chilly one” and headed out, closing the door carefully behind him as he went. 

 

\---

 

Connor, meanwhile, was launched into re-existence in front of his house, staring up at the dim gray facade of what had been his main place of residence for the past seventeen years. He looked down at- or, rather- through- his now partially transparent being, finding himself a good deal taller than he already was. Chuckling mirthlessly to himself, he realized suddenly that he now had all the standard characteristics of a generic ghost- floating, see-through, and having the primary purpose of ruining someone’s life. Then there was the added irony of having committed the murder of the nearby house’s owners only around twenty-four hours previously, along with being conveniently detached from this place and the history behind it. Surprising even to himself, Connor was in a fairly good mood.

 

As strange as the situation was, there was something oddly amusing about the ability to fly. After a few minutes of experimenting with speed and loop-de-loops, however, Connor was overcome with a strange sensation, as though his body had been magnetized and was being drawn towards some unseen mountain of metal. Seconds later, he was miraculously transported to a part of town he didn’t recognize and thoroughly angered at his sudden inability to control his own movements. Surrounded by houses much smaller and more drab than the Murphy household, he “wandered” down the street, giving into the curiosity that had suddenly overcome his annoyance. 

  
He was then aware of another person, and as they approached it clicked in his head as to why he’d been brought to this place. As that familiar blue polo and recognizable social-anxiety-adapted posture came into view, Connor recognized the unmistakable profile of Evan Hansen.

**Author's Note:**

> they were actually working on a project, by the way. zolana as we know and love it happens later
> 
> also sorry, i didn't feel like putting the whole "deal with the devil" dialogue from the original short film in there. speaking of which, if you haven't seen it: 1) where have you been and 2) here it is https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5LQe5nR2CgM
> 
> i'm still working out how this website works but there Will be more chapters !!! upload schedule is probably gonna be p inconsistent but bear with me (-_-')


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